


Diamond

by lamoamadeen



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: A Cute Marshmallow, Baseball, Lots of Baseball, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:41:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamoamadeen/pseuds/lamoamadeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jin doesn't like baseball. Kame loves it. Things go from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diamond

**Author's Note:**

> Written for razberrycreme@lj and misao-duo@lj for a holiday exchange. With a mountain of thanks to my fierce betas [haikuesque](http://archiveofourown.org/users/haikuesque) for being amazing and helping me hold the bat to the very end. Couldn't have done it without you! <3

Jin doesn't like baseball much. It's difficult to grow up in Japan and not know the basic rules, the records and all the legendary players smiling down white-toothed from the advertisement boards in Shibuya, winking from the mug of coffee on the teacher's desk, or showing off their six-packs in the Calvin Klein adverts Jin's bench neighbor cuts out of magazines and tapes into her homework planner. 

Jin thinks they look ridiculous, with their high-belted, old-fashioned uniforms stretching tightly over their junk for everyone to see. When Jin's class has to play baseball for half a year in seventh grade, he comes to practice wearing his soccer sweatpants every week, shrugging when Yamada yells at him to go change and scribbles furiously into his Teacher's Notebook of Doom.

Jin doesn't like to be confined down there. 

As punishment, he is suspended from the soccer club until the end of the trimester, because Yamada convinces the headmaster that wearing sweatpants against school rules is a precursor to selling your body for the next line of cocaine, or ending up hounding the side alleys of Shinjuku with a dragon tattooed across your back. 

The suspension sucks. It's difficult to become a professional soccer player when you're not playing.

"It's my future _career_ at stake," Jin moans during dinner.

"Didn't you want to be a pop idol last week?" Jin's mom asks, heaping more vegetables into his bowl while he's distracted. "You even wanted to send an application to Johnny's."

"That's because the guidance counselor at school says we should have several options." Jin shrugs, slurping in some ramen. "I can be a Johnny's if the soccer thing doesn't work out."

"That's… very wise," his dad says gravely, but then he winks at Jin's mom like Jin is being cute, and Jin decides he won't speak another word with them all the way through dinner. 

He lasts two minutes.

The next day, Jin's dad starts taking him to an old sports field right after work, running laps with him, passing balls and throwing himself into the reddish dust to catch Jin's free kicks, until Jin makes it back into the team after the suspension is lifted.

And on the days when soccer practice is being a drag, Jin dreams of being a pop idol with a cool car and fancy hair and all the girls falling in love with him.

 

\---

 

What they tell you before you sign your name to the thirty-page contract is that you'll earn more money at age fourteen than all of your classmates combined, that you'll learn how to make girls swoon with a flick of your wrist, and that one day your face will be plastered all over the billboards in Shibuya if only you do your best on every step along the way.

What they don't tell you is that the first step is ballroom-dancing. That's kept a secret until the first dance rehearsal.

"Because it will teach you _poise_ ," the unsmiling Italian woman in the front concludes her announcement, ignoring the flabbergasted look on everyone's faces. Her name's Miss Canniolli, which is absolutely unpronounceable and reminds Jin of pasta. 

"And remember: you're not here because this agency depends on you. You're here to prove why we should depend on you in the future. Until the probation period in your contracts is over, your admittance will be under constant scrutiny, and if you're not serious about this, please spare us the time and effort and feel free to leave whenever you'd like to." She claps her hands sharply. "Now pair off, please, _pronto pronto_!" 

There's frantic shuffling as most of the guys rush to grab a partner, Miss Canniolli looking on with unimpressed kohl-lined eyes. 

At the very back of the dance studio, Jin is torn between admitting that he kind of doesn't want to do this, that maybe the soccer career was the better idea after all, and tackling the guy with the big nose and beg him to be his dance partner. He gave Jin one of his salmon-onigiri in a break during audition, and his name is the only one Jin remembers. 

Well, sort of remembers.

But then his inner conflict is solved as Naka-something is snatched away by a kid with puffy cheeks and a timid smile. Jin snorts and turns towards the door; if he hurries, he might make it just in time for the last thirty minutes of soccer practice.

"Oi!" someone hisses, and Jin's wrist is grabbed mid-stride. "Don't bail out on me. We're the last two."

Jin knows the face. It's the boy who came sprinting into the studio five minutes late with Naka-something in tow. His shirt is still soaked through with sweat, and his hair is plastered to his forehead in dripping strands.

"You look like a rat drowned on your head," Jin hisses back, and tries to wrestle his arm free, because he's made up his mind, and this creepy mirrored room has seen the last of him. 

The boy is tiny, younger than Jin, but his grip is strong. "Please", he whispers, trying to pull Jin closer, "just for today. Didn't you see her face when we came in late?"

Jin did. She reminded him of Yamada when Jin walked onto the pitch in sweatpants. Like she was about to whip out her Teacher's Notebook of Doom. Or tear a freshly signed junior contract to pieces.

"Please. She'll throw me out if anything else happens, just– _please_." The boy's voice hitches. It makes Jin feel like a bully. He really hates bullies.

Squaring his jaw, Jin glances towards Miss Canniolli. She's looking straight back at him with narrowed eyes, a hawk honing in on its prey. The tugging on Jin's wrist becomes more frantic. He takes a deep breath, and then it doesn't feel like a big decision to relax his muscles and let the tiny boy pull him smack against his side. 

It's just three hours of his life. He can do this, and he can go on to become a soccer star tomorrow. 

Maybe one day, Chibi here will be an airbrushed idol up on the billboards, and they'll run into each other in some fancy club, and they'll nod at each other over their champagne, and Jin will know he did the right thing.

They face each other according to the instructions the teacher belts out, trying to figure out how to touch without really touching, and the boy slips his short fingers into Jin's hand. It's the most embarrassing thing Jin has ever done. Everyone else has an equally flaming face to show, but that's not much of a comfort. Miss Canniolli surveys them all for what seems like an eternity, and nods.

She teaches them the Cha-Cha that first day, but what Jin learns is that the boy's called Kamenashi Kazuya, that his face scrunches up funnily when he's laughing at one of Jin's jokes, that he's kind of fierce about getting things right, even if those things are demented dance steps, and that instead of making girls swoon with a hip thrust, he's set on throwing the winning pitch at Koshien. 

"I'm just in it for the money," Kamenashi admits during break, after they've each mooched a salmon-onigiri from Naka-something, who's really called Nakamaru and on a best-buddies-road with the round-cheeked kid called Massu 

Jin doesn't think anyone as tiny as Kamenashi should be doing things for money, and says so. 

"Yeah, but. It's just… baseball gear is really expensive," Kamenashi answers wistfully, ripping loose threads off the hem of his shirt. 

What they earn in a month is enough to make the difference between a tight and a less tight household budget. Jin's mother told him it didn't matter, took him to the bank to open a saving account in his name, and told him he could drop out any time. She also explained that some of the boys entering the agency with him might not have as much of a choice.

Jin stares down at Kamenashi's hands, at the calluses lining his palms, because he doesn't know what to say without making things awkward. 

He nearly blurts out that he doesn't get what's so great about baseball, but instead goes for, "I bet you'll make an awesome player one day." 

"No, no, no," Kamenashi says, waving his hand quickly in front of his face in negation, but he can't keep the smile off his face, and his eyes shine with determination.

His grip was strong when he kept holding on to Jin's arm, stronger than most boys his age. Jin doesn't like baseball, and he doesn't know much about what it takes to be good at it, but he suddenly knows, just _knows_ somewhere weird in his chest, that this scrawny boy is going to make it. 

 

\---

 

It wasn't a big decision to sacrifice three hours of his life for a nameless, desperate face, and it's even less of a big decision to return to the next rehearsal when soccer practice is cancelled because half the team has caught the diarrhea bug that's currently sweeping through Jin's school. 

Kamenashi beams and jumps up from where he was sitting slumped against the mirror, and he's hard to miss among the crowd of carefully styled guys, with his hair sticking up wildly all over the place. 

"I think your rat got killed by a hedgehog," Jin says in lieu of a greeting, and earns himself a bony elbow to the ribs. It hardly hurts, Kamenashi clearly keeping a rein on those baseball arms.

Jin laughs, and Kamenashi giggles, and then Jin says something about Luffy and his punching technique in this week's Shounen Jump issue, which somehow throws them right into a quarrel about whether Dragon Ball or One Piece should be considered the best fight manga of all time. Kamenashi's in the middle of a passionate defense of Vegeta while Jin's making retching noises when they're interrupted by Miss Canniolli marching into the room like she's a shogun about to send her samurai off to die. 

She makes them tango. 

It takes half of the bento box Jin's mother packed to get over the experience, and Jin's so flustered he doesn't even mind having to share his food. 

"We'll get used to it," Kamenashi mumbles through a mouthful of rice with pickled radishes in chili sauce. He didn't bat an eyelash at the weird combination, and he doesn't flinch at the taste like everyone else usually does, so Jin concludes that he's more shaken up by the whole tango thing than he lets on. 

Jin shamelessly uses the opportunity to wheedle a nickname deal out of him. 

Kame wants to take it back a few days later, when they're both excused from rehearsal because neither of them can get off the toilet long enough to make it to the agency. Apparently it's all Jin's fault, because he accidentally mixed up the chopsticks half-meal, and because he was carrying the diarrhea bug in his body already. Kame makes it sounds like Jin is Sigourney Weaver, and soon he'll have aliens exploding out of his body.

"I don't know anything about the movie, I'm not old enough," Kame says, and there's a second of silence. "Hang on, so she actually— so the aliens are exploding out of… ON THE TOILET?"

Jin's laughing so hard he drops his phone, and his mothers comes running into the room because she thinks he's howling from stomach cramps. 

 

\---

 

The agency is a whirlwind of sequins and glitter, and it sometimes makes Jin's head spin.

After ballroom dancing it's basic acrobatics, Jin feeling dizzy with pride when he masters a back flip, and then it's modern dance and it's singing lessons and speaking lessons and a crash course on how to act in a drama without making people facepalm. It's aching bones and falling asleep over a maths exam he wouldn't have passed either way. It's awkward hips and trying his best to look cool in a costume that's really a pink potato sack with a feather boa. It's seeing the senpai rush past in the corridors, blank-faced, thin, deep shadows under their eyes, with old men in suits rattling off appointments, and slowly understanding that their Gucci sunglasses alone equal what Jin's parents pay as rent.

Sometimes, Jin wonders if this is really what he wants. But then his phone vibrates during history class, and the screen is an explosion of emoji and lameness and a dirty joke that lands him straight in detention because he's really bad at inconspicuous laughing. 

"I had no idea you'd read it right away, I swear," Kame later chirps, blinking up at Jin from the floor, where he's trying to stretch his legs into a split. He's the epitome of wide-eyed innocence. That acting crash course created a monster.

Jin only feels the tiniest pang of remorse the next day when Kame bites into a rice ball, expecting tuna-mayonnaise but instead ending up with a mouthful of sour, pickled plum. 

Only then Kame's eyebrows do that furrowing thing like when he's really pissed off, and Jin's tiny pang of remorse quadruples in size, because Kame may be kind of growth-stunted, but he's also an expert on Jin's own personal kryptonite. 

"YOU STARTED IT", Jin shrieks, grabbing Nakamaru to hold him as a shield between Kame's lightning-fast pitcher's hands and Jin's collarbone, "I'm the VICTIM here! Oi! Kame! Would you just stop it alrea- Kazu! KAZU! SOMEBODY HEEEEELP!"

Of course, they all tumble to the floor into an uncool people-pile, and of course, this is when golden boy Yamashita Tomohisa walks into the rehearsal room. There's excited whispers all around the room, but Jin doesn't spare him a glance; he's too busy freaking out over the trickle of blood from Kame's nose. Kame shrugs – he's had his nose broken by a baseball at full primary school speed, so this must be nothing – but still leans back to let Jin worry and fuss and dab around with paper tissues until practice starts. 

 

\---

 

Because the truth is, the agency really is a whirlwind making Jin's head spin, but Jin can handle it, because whenever it gets too much, Kame is there to make it stop. 

Under his bed, the soccer cleats lie forgotten, collecting dust next to a couple of spider carcasses. 

 

\---

 

The day after Domoto's final choice on who's in and who's out, Kame shows up late to practice for the second time since passing the audition. He ignores Jin's attempts at making eye contact, looking small and lost when Domoto drags him out of the studio. Jin's still staring at the door after it has slammed shut. 

His heart is going a mile a minute.

Kame is _never_ late. Rumor has it he once ran past three stations on the Yamato line in zero degree temperature – everyone else coming from that direction got delayed by a double suicide on the tracks, but by the time they'd arrived, Kame was already practicing a T &T routine with the rest. 

Jin knows it's not a rumor because he went to visit Kame every day during the serious case of the flu that followed. There's still an elbow-shaped dent in Kame's wall from Jin's attempt to update him on the quadruple-twirl-step-kick-twirl thing.

Something bad must have happened, and Jin's slowly going crazy from the possibilities. What if Kame's grandma, who's sweet and old and sometimes bakes them delicious melon bread, fell down the stairs and died? What if his younger brother got kidnapped by a bunch of hosts? What if he got in a fight with the yankee gang hanging out near the agency, or he's been diagnosed with leukemia, or his family's moving to Hokkaido and he'll freeze to death in a winter storm and Jin will never see him again or what if—

"Well, that one sure went fast," Tanaka says contemptuously, breaking the silence. "Seriously, I don't get what Domoto-senpai was thinking yesterday. It's not like a bunch of amateurs will suddenly turn into professionals just because you give them a stupid name."

They all gape at him. Even Taguchi, who seems to think the world is one big pun and laughs at the most inopportune moments, looks shocked. 

Ueda clears his throat. He must have remembered he was pronounced leader the day before. "Get a grip on your attitude," he says to Tanaka. "We're all in the same boat here; we should stick together from now on."

"Stick together? With _you_?" Ueda flinches, and Tanaka snorts. "This unit is a JOKE, and they'll split us up again after Domoto's NHK deal runs out. No need to be all chummy with you guys when it'll be good riddance anyway. And that guy? Kamenashi or what's his name?" He flicks his head at the door. "He'll be thrown out of the group before he can get his apology out. Shit happens. Our name's stupid with or without a 'K'."

"You _little_ —" Jin starts, fists clenching, but Tanaka isn't finished. 

"Whoever let him join must've been on crack," he says, examining his fingernails. "He's gotta be the most ugly junior I've ever seen."

"You ASSHOLE," Jin screeches, and then things are kind of hazy, and the next moment Tanaka is groaning on the floor, holding his jaw, and Jin has Nakamaru and Ueda hanging onto his arms, trying to wrestle him back. "Kazu's ten times cooler than you, you little shit!" he shouts, and his blood's still raging. "Who do you think you are, huh? Kimutaku? Get off your high horse already, it STINKS!"

"How DARE you!" Tanaka roars and jumps at him, and then Taguchi's towering over all of them, trying to help pull Jin and Tanaka apart, and everyone's yelling at everyone to shut the fuck up.

The door is thrown open and bangs against the wall. For a second, there is absolute stillness as Domoto takes in the scene. Peeking into the studio from behind him, white-faced but _there_ , is Kazuya, and Jin feels his heart somersault with relief.

Then all hell breaks loose, and KAT-TUN learn that an enraged Domoto outwrathes Darth Vader and the Death Star. 

The only reason they survive the day is the other Domoto, who slips into the room hours after practice should have ended and claps his bandmate on the shoulder. "Boys will be boys, Koichi," he says. "They've learned their lesson, and you're due for recording with me."

For the first time that day, Domoto's brows unfurrow, and they all breathe a sigh of relief. 

He still makes them do another fifty sit-ups. He's evil like that.

 

\---

 

"Hey, can I sleep over today?" Jin asks Kame on the way home as they trudge past the faregates. "My legs feel like jelly, and your house is closer. I could grab a toothbrush at the conbini, and tomorrow's Saturday, so it's okay that I don't have spare clothes with me." He's babbling; this the first time he's suggesting this. "I could phone my parents, I'm sure they won't mind, and we can pick up some stuff at the supermarket in case there's not enough leftover from dinner. What do you think?"

Kame just shrugs, mumbling a "sure" like they do this all the time, no big deal. 

He's been morose for the whole train ride, and Jin still hasn't figured what happened to make Kame late in the first place.

It must've messed Kame's head up badly, he decides five minutes later, when Kamenashi-san shakes her head at them in exasperation and asks Kame where Jin is supposed to sleep. They don't own a spare futon.

"I forgot," Kame admits, wringing his hands, and it's obvious he's thinking of a way to let Jin down without hurting him. "Maybe you should—"

"NO PROBLEM," Jin shouts, throwing his widest grin at Kamenashi-san. "Me and Reio used to share a bed until recently, I'm a quiet sleeper. It won't be a problem." Before she can answer, and before Kame can blurt out that this is an outrageous lie, he grabs Kame's arm and ushers him into the room he shares with his youngest brother, sliding the door shut behind them. 

"Jin, this is stupid, let's just—"

"Shh," Jin says, pointing through the half-dark at Yuya's side of the room. The boy is fast asleep, and snoring happily. It must be nice go to primary school.

Kame huffs, but Jin takes off his sweater and pants with supersonic speed, and slips under the covers in just his boxers and a t-shirt. Then he pats a spot on the mattress beside him.

"Gross," Kame says. "Gross, gross, gross!"

"You're so last century," Jin says, and, because he can be manipulative if he wants to, "I'm sure Pi wouldn't mind."

Kame narrows his eyes. The clothes are off in a second, and then the light goes out and Jin has to plaster his back against the wall to avoid the flurry of bony limbs that is Kame diving onto the bed. It takes some squirming and jostling, and soon they're fighting over who gets how much of the blanket.

"I'm bigger, I'll freeze!"

"You've got more body fat."

"But this was my idea…"

"Exactly."

After Jin's lost the tugging war, they're silent for a while, listening to Yuya's snores in the dark. Jin can feel himself getting drowsy. Domoto's Evil Rehearsal is catching up with him. He turns on his side, and it's when he notices how tensely Kame is curled up next to him that he remembers. 

"Kazu…"

"Hm." 

Jin swallows. He isn't sure he'll be of help here, but... "Why were you late today? Did… did something happen?" 

Kame shifts slightly. Breathes. Rolls onto his back. Jin can feel the blanket go tight when Kame starts bunching it up in his hands, and then Kame goes still, takes another breath.

"They kicked me out of the team." 

It takes Jin a second to understand which team Kame is talking about. When he finally does, he has trouble keeping his voice down. 

" _What_?" He sits up straight. "Why would they do that? Are they cancelling the late-night remedial trainings?" Kame's been rushing home after dance practice for years now, practicing swings and bunting and all the other strange baseball things required to stay on the school team. "We could… we could ask the boss to find a private coach for you," Jin says, grabbing Kame's hand feverishly. "Or you could skip rehearsal once a week, you're always the first to remember the steps anyway, and the boss said it was cool you were still playing, didn't he, so maybe he'd let you off sometimes and—"

"Because of KAT-TUN," Kame cuts in, scratchy-voiced. "Because now I… because I told the coach I can't come to all the remedial training sessions anymore. Just until the contract with NHK is over, and then I'd return, but he—" Kame clears his throat, bunching the blanket up more tightly. "He said I shouldn't bother."

"But the Domoto thing's only for half a year," Jin whispers in protest. "And he'd have to be blind not to see you how much you love baseball. You… you love it more than anything." 

Last year, when the Giants won the Japan Series for the first time since 1994, Kame ended up sobbing into Jin's shoulder like he'd just watched Leonardo DiCaprio freezing to death in _Titanic_ , not some old dudes in ridiculous pants hitting balls with sticks. They both like to pretend it never happened.

The thing is, Kame _breathes_ baseball. Hip rolls in cheap polyester shirts haven't changed that, haven't changed Jin's belief in Kame and Koshien, either. Because Kame clings to his dreams like a pitbull, tiny but invincible, never letting go. 

"You're their best short stop," Jin tries again. "Why won't they just put you on reserve?"

"Because they want me out." Kame's voice is high, cracking under the semi-darkness of the room. "They've always wanted me out, apparently. Can't you imagine why?"

Shaking his head, Jin stares down at Kame, who looks like he might be crying if Jin wasn't here right now. 

"He said people like me, like you and Yamashita and Domoto, were a bad influence anyway. That he should've kicked me out right away, because who knows what the other guys might have caught from me." 

Jin feels like someone hit his chest with a sledgehammer. He struggles for something to say. 

"Ah fuck," Kame chokes, pulling his hand out of Jin's grip to rub his sleeve over his face with jerky, furious movements. "Now I'm letting that asshole get to me again. This is so stupid."

"Kazu…" Jin starts, but Kame shakes his head sharply. "Don't." He bends low over the edge of the bed, fishing for something, and then there's the trumpeting sound of heavy nose-blowing. 

"It's okay," Kame says when he comes up for air again. "It's okay, and it's over. I let him get to me, and it nearly cost me KAT-TUN. I don't want that to happen again. It'd be like letting him win." The crinkled-up tissue rustles through the air in a perfect arc, landing in the dustbin like a gauntlet thrown at someone's feet. "Let that jerk believe whatever the hell he wants."

 

\---

 

Later that night, Jin wakes up from a kick to his shin. He's disoriented at first, feeling around for the bedside lamp in its usual spot. His fingers bump into something leathery, and as the haze of sleep finally clears away, he realizes that it's Kame's baseball glove. 

Right, sleepover.

Someone groans next to him, and this time, it's Jin's forehead that suffers a blow when the back of Kame's hand smacks into it. 

"Ouch," he hisses, and it's on the verge of hitting Kame right back that he realizes Kame is still asleep. 

It's not a good sleep though. Kame is frowning, and his jaw is tense, like he's grinding his teeth vigorously. He's sweating despite the slight chill in the room. Jin shivers, feeling goosebumps spread along his arms. The blanket is lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the bed, where Kame must have pushed it during his tossing and turning. 

Jin sits up on his knees and reaches for the blanket to shake it out, narrowly avoiding a kick to the chin in the process. 

"Shhh," he whispers, and carefully tucks them both back in. "It's alright." 

Maybe Kame isn't sleeping well because he's not used to someone else taking up space in his bed. Jin presses his back against the wall, making himself as small as possible, and slows down his breathing until it's almost inaudible. Kame doesn't calm down, though. His eyelids are twitching now, and he's mumbling sluggishly. It doesn't take long and he's trying to wrestle the blanket down again, like it's an enemy he needs to push off his chest. 

Jin wonders if he should get up and just sleep on the floor, or sneak out to the small couch in the Kamenashi living-room. But then Kame whimpers, as if in pain, and Jin distinctly makes out the name of the baseball coach. It makes Jin's blood boil with rage that the bastard has the audacity to follow Kame into his dreams. And Jin won't stand for that.

He slides away from the wall, until there are only centimeters of space between his chest and Kame's back. "Shhh," he whispers, sliding an arm over Kame's thin waist in a sudden fit of bravery. "It's okay. You're just dreaming. Just a dream."

He knows the exact moment Kame wakes up. It's quick, a shuddering intake of breath, a movement of his head, and then the sound of breathing stops, and Kame's body starts to tense.

"Bad dream," Jin murmurs, trying to make his voice sound tired and low, like spooning up to his best friend is totally chill, nothing to freak out about. "It's late. Go back to sleep, 'kay?"

He deliberately lets his breath even out, pretending to be asleep already, and after a while the tension in Kame's body dissolves. His hip does one or two freakish twitches under Jin's arm, and a few minutes later Jin's pretty sure he's sleeping again.

There's no more tossing. Kame sleeps quietly now, and when Jin slowly props himself up on his free elbow, he sees that Kame's face is smooth and relaxed, his mouth slack and huffing one deep, calm breath after another. It sends a sudden burst of happiness through Jin, and then, strangely, his heart picks up speed. 

_What the hell_ , Jin thinks, and he's kind of glad no-one else is there to see him blush as if Angelina Jolie just kissed him goodnight. _What the hell_.

But the room is silent, unhelpful, just Yuya still snoring on the other side. So Jin settles back down, with Kame's body a confusing mixture of warmth and edges and wiriness underneath Jin's arm. 

It's been a long day. And sort of dramatic emotion-wise, with the near-removal of Kame from KAT-TUN, punching Koki, surviving Domoto's rage, and then Kame fighting not to break out in tears in front of Jin. All that stuff must have messed with his brain.

Things like that happen all the time. Like when Jin won 5.000 Yen in the school festival lottery after flunking a kanji test, and promptly forgot that haunted houses scare him to death. Machiko-chan probably still curses him five ways to hell when she remembers how he ditched her screaming in the first blood-covered room.

It's just his mind being emotionally stressed, Jin realizes, breathing a sigh of relief. Nothing wrong at all. 

And there's nothing wrong about staying awake for a little longer, watching out for signs that the evil coach might be slithering back into Kame's dreams. And, nothing being wrong with anything, it's only logical to pull Kame closer when he starts twitching again, when a tiny frown appears on his forehead.

Nothing wrong with trying to chase away the reality of Kame losing what he loves most. In dreams, anything is possible. 

"You're at Koshien," Jin breathes into Kame's hair, the words barely audible. "You're at Koshien, and the bases are full. It's the last inning, and you know it's now or never. The spectators are screaming your name – _Kamenashi, ganbare!_ The bat… feels heavy. You step into the diamond. And then it's just you and the pitcher, and the ball racing towards you." 

Kame hums in his sleep, flexing his fingers. 

"Victory is up to you," Jin whispers, slowly drifting off himself. "All you have to do is…. grasp it."

That night, Jin dreams of Kame hitting a homerun at Koshien in an endless, beautiful loop, the ball sailing high, towards the stands, over and over and over again.

 

\---

 

"Can't you just tell me where we're going?" Kame yells over the roar of a diesel-engine as they cycle past another small factory. This one's producing false teeth. The last one had a parking lot crammed with chained-together walking frames. 

"It's a secret," Jin shouts back. "Wait and see!"

They turn off at the next corner, onto an unpaved alley between two gravestone manufacturers. Then another turn, and it's quieter, grassy hills sloping down to a shallow river on their left, just like Jin remembered. 

"Please say we aren't going to an old-people's home," Kame begs. "I still have nightmares from all the cheek-grabbing when Domoto made us dance on his grandmother's birthday."

"Survive the ninety-year-old ladies, and you'll survive Pop Jam," Jin chants, repeating what Domoto told them before carting them off to _Cherry Blossom & Plumtree Home_ in full sparkling gear.

Kame scowls. "If I'm asked one more time where a sweet little girl like me got her nose broken, I'm never talking to you again."

"I'll keep this in mind for the next dumb magazine interview," Jin laughs, narrowly avoiding a collision with a slug on the road. " _What Kamenashi Kazuya fears:_ Nothing. Except ferocious old ladies."

Kame yowls in fury, and then Jin's so caught up in keeping ahead in the ensuing race that he nearly misses their next turn. It leads them through an allotment garden colony, and Kame's eyebrows slowly climb towards his hairline. 

"Seriously, what is this area?" he asks, staring at all the neatly kept beds of good old Japanese vegetables. "First the factories, then the gravestones, and now allotment gardens? I think we need to wait at least forty years until we have any business being here."

Jin grins to himself, remembering the first time he came here with his father a couple of years before. It's not a place where you would expect—

"WHOA," Kame shouts, gaping wide-eyed at the side before them as they cycle out of the garden colony, and then his front wheel swerves dangerously as he starts to laugh. "Is this for real? Seriously?"

Stretching out in front of them is the old soccer field Jin used to go to with his Dad, back when he was still set on becoming the next Ronaldo – when he wouldn't have known Kame if they'd passed each other in the streets. Now it's strange to think such a time ever existed, and Jin never wants to go back again.

Right behind the soccer field is an equally old but well-kept baseball pitch, protected by high fences, with an infield about half the usual size to allow for the massive net spanning the entire pitch. It's just as deserted as the soccer field, and Jin watches the realization bloom on Kame's face after they've dropped their bikes into the meadow surrounding the complex.

"Jin…" Kame starts, swallowing. He doesn't take his eyes off the pitch for a single second. "Why did you take me here?"

"To train, stupid," Jin says. "We'll make you the best entertainment baseball player in the whole WORLD, and that asshole of a coach can go eat his hat when he sees you're awesome." 

What Jin doesn't say is that he can't bear how Kame is staring down at his hands these days, all sad and wistful. It's been a month, and the calluses are fading.

Kame is silent for a moment. "Jin…" he says slowly, a cheeky grin spreading over his face. "What if I already am the best entertainment baseball player in the whole world?"

"Don't be cocky!" Jin snorts, grabbing Kame in a headlock. Struggling him down requires more strength than Jin likes to admit, and he has to literally risk his skin because Kame _bites_ , like the nasty snapping turtle he really is, but then Jin's got him pinned and enough air to wheeze, "You can't even get out of this, you have to grow some more muscle before you claim the globe, _chibi_. And you haven't even met the coach."

"What coach?" Kame stops struggling immediately. 

Jin lets go of him, pointing towards the small house half hidden behind the pitch. "The guy who owns all this, of course" he laughs. "You're my best friend, and I'll even cram my balls into stupid baseball pants for you. But I cross the line at unlawful entry."

The owner is an old man who sometimes watched while Jin was practicing free kicks, and nodded in greeting, but as the soccer field is open to the public, there was never any need to talk to him. Jin doesn't even know his name – he copied a telephone number from a note stuck to the pitch entrance yesterday, and phoned ahead to say they were coming. 

It turns out Kame knows the name. When the old man slides the door open, Kame does a double-take, squinting up at the man in disbelief. 

"Kawakami… Shigeo?" he asks, breathless, and then bows deeply, pulling Jin along with him. "I'm Kamenashi Kazuya, and this is Akanishi Jin. We're honored to meet you." 

Jin has no clue why they're supposed to feel honored; it's just the owner of a baseball pitch in the middle of nowhere. But Kazuya's voice is quivering like he's one of Domoto's crazed fangirls, so Jin rattles down a polite greeting.

"You sure know your Giants history, kid," Kawakami grumbles, clearly taken by surprise. "A bookworm, huh? Or one of those nerd brats who surf the internet all day? Wasting so much time with nonsense, children these days." He shakes his head in disgust. "What a good-for-nothing generation, never seeing things through."

"You don't even know Kame," Jin blurts out in protest, bristling at the implied insult. "You know what, old man, I think we'll just find ourselves another pitch. Right, Kazuya?" He grabs Kame's arm, but Kame refuses to budge.

"My grandfather was a big fan," he says, raising his chin. "I grew up looking at an autographed picture of you as coach, when you were around fifty. It was my grandfather's most precious possession." 

"Was it, now," Kawakami contemplates, studying Kame more thoroughly now.

"Your nose is very memorable", Kame tells him, and then he's smiling, all wide and sweetly. "It also helped that you've aged quite well, Kawakami-san."

Jin wants to vomit, but Kawakami is eating it up, the corners of his ancient, wrinkled mouth twitching into what must be considered a megawatt grin, for a grumpy and disdainful old guy. Jin should have expected that. Kame's always had a way of charming old guys.

They're invited in to plead their case, and Kame bravely eats his way through three homemade pickled plums while explaining his removal from the school team. When he gets to the Johnny's part, Kawakami nods. "Explains the hair," he says, and pats Kame's shoulder. "You do what you gotta do, kid. I don't judge."

Jin wants to open his mouth and say he was _so_ judging them just a minute ago, before Kame turned on his old-guy-allure. But Kame's eyes are shining in a way that's become rare since that day he got kicked out of the team, and Jin keeps his mouth wisely shut, trying his best at being invisible. Contrary to Kame, Jin has never been good with old guys. He mostly just pisses them off. 

By the time the tea has finished brewing, Kame has scored the coaching deal and Kawakami's personal cell phone number. 

 

\---

 

"But you hate baseball," Pi says two years and countless hours on the pitch later, when Jin invites him to join them for their weekly training session. "And you know I stop listening the moment someone says homerun, I won't be much help."

"Do it for Kame?" Jin tries feebly. 

Pi gives him a look. Ueda, who pretends he isn't watching them from the dressing room couch, snorts.

Well, worth a try. Jin moves on to pouting and does his best attempt at puppy eyes. "Do it for _me_?" 

Ueda makes vomiting noises. Jin gives him the finger behind his back where Pi can't see. 

"Okay, okay," his friend finally sighs. "What do you want me to do?" 

"Take care of the dogs," Jin says, grinning. "Kawakami got them a playpen, so that we can bring them onto the pitch, but they just whine forever until someone goes to pet them." Most of the time, it's Kawakami who caves first, but the old codger would never admit to that. "Pin and Ran-chan hate being ignored."

"I wonder who they get that from," Pi says. 

Jin whacks him with the porn magazine they were flipping through to, uh, _analyze_ boobs. Unfortunately, Pi is a better match size-wise than Kame, so Jin ends up on the floor trying to keep his friend from stuffing a worn sock into his mouth. Ueda, the traitor, doesn't so much as lift a finger to help in what should clearly be considered an inter-group fight.

Jin decides to hide his Gackt poster in Ryo's locker when this is over.

"Oi, Yamashita," Koki yells from where's he's sit-upping his stomach into a six-pack. "Be careful!" Jin feels a brief flash of gratitude. Right until: "Nakamaru still needs that sock!"

"Nakamaru's sock STINKS," Jin hollers from underneath Yamapi, throwing his head back and forth to escape the nasty sock. "Nakamaru has SMELLY FEET."

"I wore that for a whole concert run, of course it stinks," Nakamaru mutters somewhere in front of the make-up mirror, beet-red. 

"Nakamaru's life is hard like a well-ripened cheese," Taguchi chimes in, and gets pushed off the couch by Ueda for his metaphor efforts. Jin thinks maybe he won't hide the Gackt poster after all.

He still hasn't managed to fight Pi off, and he just knows that any seconds it's going to be The Collarbone and then it'll all be over and he'll die from bad smell, and Taguchi is being dramatic and wailing "But Ueeee~pi" and Koki, still working his pitiful abs, is cheering Pi on gleefully, and somewhere beneath the whole ruckus, Jin swears he can hear Nakamaru muttering, "Make-up mirror, make-up mirror, when will they ever grow up and mature?"

The door slams open, and if this feels vaguely like déjà vu, it's because this is KAT-TUN and this happens on a weekly basis.

Clutching Yamapi's sock-armed hand with all his might, Jin lets his head fall back until he can see who it is, brightening up when he recognized an upside-down Kame folding his arms in front of his chest. 

"Kazuya," he says happily, and Yamapi, the bitch, nearly uses this lapse of attention to suffocate Jin with the horrible sock.

"I could use some help here," Jin wheezes. 

"Kame isn't doing that anymore," Yamapi cheerfully reminds him, echoed by Kame's, "I'm not doing that anymore," as he squats down beside them. "I told the two of you I'm not getting into your fights anymore. All it does is get me punched."

"PI'S FAULT," Jin shrieks just as Yamapi screams, "JIN'S FAULT."

Kame frowns. "What is this about, anyway?"

None of them remembers. They stop struggling, Pi eyeing the collarbone with regret. 

"I think it was about dogs and being spoiled," Ueda says. Koki, wincing from strained stomach muscles, shakes his head. 

"Socks," he insists, "it was about socks." 

"Nonsense," Taguchi says, climbing back onto the couch now that Ueda's attention is diverted. "It was really about Nakamaru's problem with smelly–"

"I DO NOT HAVE A SMELLY FEET PROBLEM," Nakamaru cries out in indignation, messing up his lipgloss. 

"No, you don't," Kame assures him quickly, and Nakamaru nods gravely, pointing at the open porn magazine on the floor. "I'm pretty sure that's what started them off."

Kame stares down at the impressive pair of Double-D globes displayed over two pages. Someone (Pi) has scrawled "FAKE!" from one nipple to the other with red lipstick.

"Boobs," Kame says, and huffs. "What else is new."

 

\---

 

Jin still kind of hates baseball, but everyone's bound to become halfway decent with years of semi-regular personal training. Right from the start, Kawakami insisted that Kame needed a practice partner, and by now, Jin's sad to admit it's become almost second nature to catch Kame's pitches, to bat without murdering someone, and to throw a really hard ball. 

Kawakami also delights in stealing all of Jin's cigarettes no matter where he hides them, and Jin knows he secretly rejoices whenever Pi shows up, because it means he'll get to chew him out for trying to sneak in a smoke while dogsitting. For whatever reason, Pi still keeps showing up when his schedule permits it.

For the same whatever reason, Kame and Jin return week after week, and it's not only the fact that Kame's calluses stayed for good, or the peaceful quiet in this weird neighborhood of old people's things, or the misshapen rice omelettes Kawakami scrambles together after practice, one with tomatoes, and one without.

There are three framed photographs on the chest of drawers in Kawakami's living room. Two of them are old: one of his wife, when she was young and alive and beautiful in her wedding kimono, the other a Giants team picture from 1954, ages ago. Jin has learned to make out Kawakami in there, grainy and grim and exactly as old as Jin is now.

The third photograph is still shiny, taken some day this summer when Kawakami had to water the pitch so they wouldn't choke from the dust. Kame and Jin are laughing into the camera with the same bleached hairstyle, their jerseys sweaty and smeared with the reddish dirt of the pitch. 

There's a smudge of mud across the bridge of Kame's nose, and his eyes are sparkling slits of happiness. 

But the fact that Jin sometimes slip up and calls Kawakami "gramps" in his head doesn't mean he can't try to annoy the ex-coach once in a while. "Why do I have to do all the hard work, old man," he whines after a series of thirty pitches, all effortlessly hit by Kame's bat. "You're the pro. I'm crap at this."

"We've had this discussion, kid," Kawakami says, patiently readjusting Kame's grip on the hilt. "You keep saying you've got superstar hips, so you gotta use them. Don't make sense for me to risk a slip and break my old bones when you can do it better anyway." He puts his protective headgear back on and crouches down behind Kame, coughing through the last bits of his recent autumn cold. "And pay attention to that left foot of yours. It's still not stable enough during the throw."

"All right, all right," Jin says, but he drops his glove onto the mound and starts for the house. "I need to use the bathroom, back in a sec."

He doesn't think it's such a big deal to bring Kawakami's thick wool jacket along with him when he returns, but the old man's mouth twitches into that grumpy smile of his, and Kame's eyes light up like he's looked at Jin and found something amazing. 

The next pitch is so embarrassingly far out of the striking zone that it bounces into the dogs' playpen in the far corner. Pin and Ran-chan decide it's an enemy in need of instant annihilation.

 

\---

 

Things pick up speed. There's concert planning for a sold-out tour, fittings for violet pirate hats and the announcement of Gokusen. No-one even thinks of celebrating Christmas, or New Year's, or anything. 

On the rare occasion that Jin and Kame still squeeze in a visit at Kawakami's, they only eat half of his rice omelets after late-night baseball practice, because they're on a joint mission to starve themselves to what's considered proper drama weight. 

Kame's hair blazes red, and despite the sharp lines his face has morphed into, he's so vibrant Jin often finds himself staring.

There's girls screaming everywhere they go, hurricanes of high-pitched voices slicing through Jin's eardrums whenever he brushes past Kame on stage, and a photographer snapping pictures of them posing in a bed, the magazine selling out within hours, and somewhere in Ikebukuro, dingy stores make a fortune selling Akakame romance manga and hard-core porn painted by girls barely legal. KAT-TUN haven't even debuted yet, but already the paparazzi are lurking like vultures, waiting for the perfect shot, the perfect picture that could make them rich and turn Jin and Kame into high school drop-outs without career options.

It's a crazy year, exhilarating and terrifying, and Kame's hand radiating heat in Jin's when they bow to roars of applause. It's euphoria and paranoia, and functioning on so little sleep that Kame's bony lap feels like a cushion in the back of an on-location van. Kame stiffens but doesn't push Jin off, pulling the blankets high around him instead. Jin hears him whisper that he'll wake him up when Koike Teppei has finally managed his lines, when it's time to get out into the cold again. He's spiraling into a black bout of nothing, and jerks awake to a hand being snatched out of his hair right as the door slides open.

Then Kame is pronounced the world's best artist baseball player of 2005, and Jin is watching it live from Kawakami's living-room.

"Why did you decide to coach us, back then?" Jin asks Kawakami on a whim. "You could be training anyone. The Giants would take you back in a heartbeat."

"I could do a lot of things," Kawakami mutters, looking on proudly as Kame accepts a golden glove on the television screen. "Saw something special in the two of you, that day you first came here. Got proven right, I daresay." He leans back on his old, threadbare sofa. "I'm happy with the way things are. I've got my pitch, my house, and two baseball-playing idols who think visiting a lonely old man is a good way to spend their free time."

"Don't get emotional on me, old man," Jin chides softly, and bursts into giggles when TV-Kame looks like he's about to swoon from shaking hands with another baseball legend Jin can't name. "Oh my god, he's such a dork."

And then it's late, and Jin's halfway out of the door when Kawakami shuffles back into the hallway. 

"You know, I wasn't going to say this because I don't want to meddle in anyone's business," he says, his hoarse voice unusually careful. "But the question here isn't why an old chap like me deludes himself into thinking that he's finally found something like grandchildren in two guys who hop around in glitter pants." Kawakami looks at Jin, and his old knowing eyes seem to hold the answers for everything. "The question you should be asking yourself is why _you've_ been coming here for all these years, learning how to pitch and bat, when you've never felt any love for the game. That's what you should think about."

That night, Kawakami's words keep looping in Jin's mind, and when he finally closes his eyes to sleep, all he can see is Kame, laughing and red-haired and happy. 

That night, Jin dreams of Kame hitting a homerun in Koshien, and of him tumbling into Jin's arms as they cheer together, over and over and over again.

 

\---

 

Somewhere in that crazy year, in between the screaming and photo shoots of snuggling and getting painted with pretty bruises for a television special, there's a memory of a belated Christmas party in April, or June, or something like that. Jin only remembers bits and pieces, because there was mulled wine and champagne in Ueda's giant house, with their parents somewhere downstairs and the six of them drinking themselves stupid in Ueda's suite of rooms. 

He remembers Koki cuddling up to one of the golden retrievers, calling him Kame-chan in a cooing voice, and Nakamaru giggling hysterically over one of Taguchi's stupid puns. He remembers a Bon Jovi duet with Ueda, on the karaoke machine, until their voices were hoarse and Jin's head was spinning and he stumbled out onto the balcony, crouching down on smooth wooden planks. 

He remembers… he _thinks_ he remembers a hand slipping into his, rough with calluses, out in the fresh night air, and someone whispering into his ear. His memory ends in a confusing jumble of his heart beating fast and the spidery pattern of the planks beneath his feet.

Sometimes he dreams about that night, and he wakes up to the feeling of lips pressing into his, clumsy and hesitant. But the dream never stays, clearing away to nothing, and Jin's alone with his racing pulse, alone and aroused and pathetic.

Jin doesn't know if he's remembering or wishing, and he's too terrified to ask.

 

\---

 

Jin doesn't ask in 2005. Nobuta is taking its toll on Kame, and he looks like anything might break him at any moment. The calluses have started to fade again.

In 2006, Jin runs away to Los Angeles, and there's no sense in asking, because Kame probably wouldn't answer. The only way they're communicating is via Kawakami's questionable mailing skills, and the old man complains that he feels like the child in a divorce. Jin tells him to tell Kame that Kyoko Koizumi is _ancient_.

When Jin returns in 2007, they make peace over Kawakami's living-room table, and Kame laces their fingers together in an arena full of people. Jin's not stupid, so he chooses again not to ask. "Better friends than sorry", he tells Pi, who groans and buries his head in his arms and mutters that it's Jin's and Kame's fault if he ever goes prematurely bald.

In 2008, they're pirates again, with less violet and more plot, but this time they're keeping their distance. They save the touching for Kawakami's pitch, where they brawl over whether the ball was in or out of the striking zone. Kame isn't as easy to pin down now that he's gained muscle mass from boxing. He also knows how to land a punch, so Jin decides that this, too, might not be the best year for asking. 

 

\---

 

Then it's 2009, and Kame is a gay samurai with lipstick, but it's all metaphors and fiction.

He also seems to have a very real homosexual crush on a baseball player.

"A _fanboy crush_ ," Koki corrects Jin over steaming bowls of ramen. "It's not like he's being serious. Remember that girl who stalked him last year?"

"Which one?" Jin asks. "The fifteen-year old who stabbed her bunny and used its blood to draw a pentagon in front of Kame's hotel room door? For summoning a love demon?"

The agency's supposedly still paying the tabloids off on that one.

"Nah, not her," Koki says and slurps in a bunch of noodles. "The one who sent a month's supply of her worn underwear to his radio station. That ring a bell? She didn't even back down when the agency lawyers bombarded her with threatening letters, and then all it took to chase her away was a glimpse of his stubble and unstyled hair on his weekend off."

"Ah. That one." Jin hates this job sometimes. Comes with a lot of lunatics. "Koki, I don't really think Kame will stop fawning over Nishi-what's-his-name because of facial hair." 

Because they're talking about _Kame_ , who has a jungle growing on his legs, and who wouldn't even bother to shave if it wasn't in his contract. 

"The man's called Nishioka Tsuyoshi," Koki says, exasperated. "How can you not know any baseball names when you've been secretly training with Kame for years?"

"I _train_ with him. Doesn't mean I'm holding his hand when he's watching the sports news."

"But you'd like to." Koki grins. "And now you're afraid Nishioka will get to the hand-holding before you even get over yourself."

"Shut up," Jin says, feeling heat creep up his neck. "There's no epic, un-gotten-over crush, okay? Maybe once… kind of, but– yeah. Why does everyone think I'm secretly pining after him? I can… not be pining after him and still want to protect his virtue. That Nishioka guy clearly has an ulterior motive."

The truth is, Jin doesn't exactly know who Nishioka is, except that Kame threw some opening pitch against him and won, and later the guy scored a homerun and told everyone it was the Kamenashi Effect. Then he invited Kame to some fancy Sukiyaki restaurant, and somehow scored a deal to call him "Kazu-kun". In public.

Jin refuses to remember when he was last allowed to call Kame that out in the open, and he refuses to admit he's sulking.

He refuses to even _think_ about maybe not being completely over crushes that he still isn't sure were really crushes at all, because it might've been all in his head and really, it's just a clumsy, drunken kiss that might or might not have happened, it's been four years, and he's totally got a grip on himself. 

"You're not fooling anyone," Koki says, and gestures at Jin's bowl. "I stole all your meat and you didn't notice. Either you're deathly sick, or you're pining."

Jin glances down at his lonely noodles. Thinks of Kame having food orgasms over the udon they had yesterday, after the encore. Jin thought the udon tasted brilliant, too; right until Kame jumped into an account of Nishioka's latest super save. Then it had tasted like slimy worms.

"I am pining," he says slowly.

"Exactly," Koki drawls, dumping the contents of Jin's bowl into his own. "But do take your time. As I said, Nishioka's just a fanboy thing. Though if Kame ever decides to look at him… you know, romantically– well, in that case you might want to act on your pining sometime before we hit thirty. Or before some other hot-shot baseball player tries to snatch him away."

"Just shoot me now," Jin groans, burying his face in his arms. "I don't stand a chance."

In all the years Jin's been cheering Kame on to be an idol baseball player, it never occurred to him that one day it might come back to bite him in the ass.

 

\---

 

The world is blurry. 

Jin blinks. 

Things are tilting softly, and the corridor stretches endlessly from one dressing room to the next. Just a few meters, Jin reminds himself, leaning half his weight against the wall as he tries to shake away the cotton settling over his eardrums. 

He has to hurry. Do this while Ueda is still on his crazy between-concerts-sprints, and while Taguchi's getting the soles of his tap dance shoes fixed. Nakamaru fell asleep over a book on deforestation, so if Jin returns before Koki comes back from his lunch-time date with Kis-my-Ft2, nobody will know he ever got up from the couch. 

Except Kame, but that's the whole point. If Kame wasn't being stupidly lovey-dovey with that Nishioka guy, Jin could sleep off the anti-nausea IV, the anti-pain pill and the anti-whatever-else-mean-thing-Akanishi-managed-to-catch-so-lets-hit-him-with-a-broad-spectrum-antibiotic injection, "oh and please someone hold his hand for the needle, he looks like he's about to faint". 

How's Jin supposed to sleep in peace when he knows that guy came to visit. That he is alone with Kame right now in the second dressing room used for meetings and _nice_ people visiting. Like Pi and Ryo and maybe Massu. But definitely not people like Nishioka, who probably only lost that season-opening pitch because he was too busy ogling Kame's ass.

It's a cute ass, Jin's mind chooses to remind him. But that's not the point.

The point is… his brain's working really funnily right now. Difficult to think things through, but there is the door, and this is the doorknob, and if he turns it and pushes, he can save Kame from being… seduced by Nishioka. Who spends hours in the gym, probably. Jin saw his abs on Google pictures. Don't come naturally, abs that defined. 

Kame probably thinks it's okay to be seduced by someone who hits homeruns like Jin eats burritos. Someone with abs like that.

He turns the knob and pushes. Just like the plan. Only the door swings open faster than his hand wants to let go, and he's stumbling into the room still holding on to the door, and then it's blackness and vertigo. Until Jin's body jerks to a stop in the air, but the spinning continues.

"Uhm," someone says, and there's a vise around Jin's arm that wasn't there before. "Are you all right?" Not Kame's voice, that.

"What the… JIN!" _That's_ Kame's voice. "Why are you up, you're supposed to – shit, did something happen? Did it get worse? Where's Nakamaru?" There's a touch to his forehead, and Jin tries to blink through the black and gray veils flickering in front of his eyes, but squeezes them shut when all it does is make him want to puke.

"Dizzy," he manages, leaning into Kame's hand on his forehead. It feels blessedly cool.

An arm slides around his back, strong and reassuring. "It's okay, I've got him now," Kame says to somewhere above Jin's head. The vise around Jin's arm vanishes. 

There's some stumbling, and Kame wheezing, "No, no, I've got this," and then Jin's back sinks into the sofa cushions. He tries to open his eyes, but the room suddenly seems so bright it stabs right into his brain. It makes him hiss with pain.

"I'll go fetch a towel," someone says, and footsteps move across the room. The bathroom door creaks open.

"Are you going to be sick?" Kame asks. He sounds worried, keeps touching Jin's forehead. Pushes back strands of sweaty hair. "Should I go fetch the doctor?"

"No, just… walked too far." The room suddenly feels cold. Jin shivers. 

Cursing under his breath, Kame fumbles around somewhere under Jin's feet, and a few seconds later, a blanket is pulled up to his chest. When Kame leans over the couch to tuck the blanket in around Jin's shoulders, Jin can tell he's wearing cologne. It's the one that's usually reserved for when he's trying to get laid, once in a blue moon.

And Jin knows, just knows, that Koki was wrong.

His stomach clenches with something that feels like nausea but really isn't. He wants to curl up and hide between the cushions of the couch. 

The slight wince doesn't escape Kame's attention. "Does it hurt somewhere?" he asks immediately, and Jin knows if he doesn't say something right now, Kame will figure it out, because Jin is an open book, and Kame is fluent in the language it's written in.

"Stomach cramp," he chokes out, his voice scratchy and off-pitch from the lump that has formed in his throat.

"But those should've stopped," Kame says, even more worried, sliding his hands down the blanket towards Jin's stomach. "You took something for that, you should be better by now. It must be something else." His fingers press down carefully, searching for the aching spot that doesn't exist.

The bathroom door creaks again as the other person – who must be Nishioka, Jin realizes with horror – returns. 

"Here," he says quietly, and something wet and cool is pressed into Jin's hand. "My sister says this helps with migraines. It's not much, but it'll dull the pain until the drugs kick in."

Jin's fingers slowly clench into a fist around the damp towel. He can't will them to move. He can't even think straight right now.

"Thank you," Kame says in Jin's place, and his voice is so warm that Jin's throat tightens even more. "That's very kind of you." 

He pauses his attempt at palpation to gently tug the towel from Jin's grip and fold it over his forehead. The coolness seeps into Jin's skin immediately. It feels good. 

He doesn't want it to feel good.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Nishioka asks, careful to keep his voice down around Jin and his headache. 

Jin wants him to yell like an ignorant asshole. To not fetch wet towels without hesitation. To stay far away from Kame and never smell that cologne. 

"If you would like to," Kame says, sounding half-distracted from prodding Jin's stomach. "You could ask my bandmate to fetch the doctor. His name's Nakamaru, he's supposed to be right next door." His fingers still for a second, and Jin imagines him smiling at Nishioka. "That'd be a great help, actually."

"Alright," Nishioka says, and then he's gone.

There's a shift in Kame's body when he turns back to Jin, sending another waft of cologne to Jin's nose. It makes him flinch just as Kame's fingers press somewhere low above his hip. 

"That's the appendix," Kame says, and now he just sounds like he's on the verge of panicking. Or calling an ambulance. "I should go and search for the doctor, too, he needs to check this immediately. If it's really your appendix, we need to– and you were doing a whole concert already, with all the dancing, it might've made it worse– god, what if it ruptures?" 

He jumps to a stand, and Jin blindly grasps for his wrist, holding him back from dashing out of the room. 

He opens his eyes, and again, the light is like a hammer to his skull. He still keeps them open, squinting up at Kame, who is looking down at him with frantic worry. 

There's no lipstick now, no make-up, just Kame with fluffy hair and the shadow of mid-day stubble he's going to shave off later. He's wearing outrageously expensive jeans and a black shirt that clings to his waist and shoulders just _so_ , like it was tailored to them, which Jin knows it was, because he was there when Kame bought it.

He looks good. Like you'd be stupid to turn him down if you were a secretly gay baseball star with perfect abs, out to score. 

Statistics say there's a one-in-ten chance Nishioka fits the description. And Jin has a feeling his time has run out. He opens his mouth.

 _You kissed me four years ago, didn't you_ , is what he wants to say. _Don't go after other guys when I finally want to kiss you back._

"It's just stomach cramps," is what his mouth says. "It's probably nothing." 

He is the world's biggest coward.

Then Nakamaru bursts into the room, Murata-sensei and Nishioka hot on his heels, and it takes a while and a lot of demonstrative poking of Jin's stomach until Kame believes Murata-sensei that Jin doesn't need to be rushed into an emergency room. 

"What he needs is as much quiet and rest as he can get, and _not_ get up and go running about again," she says, with a stern glance into Jin's direction. "I can't give him something to help him sleep, but with all the drugs in his system, he shouldn't have problems with that anyway."

She's right. It's only minutes after she's switched off the light, shuffled everyone and a reluctant Kame out of the room, and pulled the door shut behind them, that Jin starts to feel lethargic. It becomes difficult to keep track of the painful chaos in his head and chest with everything getting sluggish, and woozy, and then, slowly, blissfully blank. 

He nearly doesn't hear the door opening again, and the footsteps tiptoeing into the room.

"I'm sorry I forgot," someone whispers, just as Jin's about to struggle his eyelids open. "Is he asleep? He didn't look too good earlier."

"I'll go check," Kame says quietly, and Jin goes still. "You search for your bag, okay?"

Jin breathes. In and out. Steady. 

"Jin?" Kame whispers. Jin can smell it when he leans over him, spicy and dark. He tries to escape back into that drowsy blankness, but his mind is wide awake.

"Found it," Nishioka says, and Kame moves back towards the door. 

"He seems better now," he says, voice low. "Sorry we gave you such a scare. I'm still happy you visited."

"I'm happy, too," Nishioka whispers. He sounds nervous. 

Jin clutches the blanket more firmly. He holds his breath, opens his eyes a bit. There's a sliver of light where the door is open a gap, and two black silhouettes in front of it.

"That was really cool of you earlier," Kame murmurs. "With the towel." 

"Hm," Nishioka breathes, taking a small step closer. "Just a family migraine remedy. Nothing special."

"Still," Kame whispers, Nishioka's head dipping down slowly. "Thanks."

The black shadows by the door melt into one. 

The room is silent. Just a rustle of clothes as they shift, a hitched breath. And the frantic drumbeat of Jin's heart as it races.

Then one silhouette breaks away from the other. "Not here," Kame says, low and hoarse. "This isn't the place."

"Whoops, you're right." Nishioka sounds sheepish, out of breath. "I'm sorry."

"Anyway." Kame chuckles softly, reaching for the doorknob. "What happened to buying me dinner first?"

"Still happening," Nishioka says, the smile audible in his voice. "Definitely happening."

Then two pairs of feet sneak out of the room. When the door is pulled closed behind them, the dressing room falls dark, quiet again. 

And Jin is alone.

 

\---

 

Two weeks later, when they've barely returned from the arena tour, Jin says "Have fun!" like he means it, ends the phone call with a flick of his finger, and decides to get thoroughly drunk with people who have no more of a clue than him who Nishioka Tsuyoshi is, and who care even less about which guy or girl Kamenashi Kazuya might or might not be fucking tonight.

Only problem's that these people tend to get even drunker than Jin, and he's somehow managed to lose them all. 

He's sent Josh twenty-seven incoherent hate mails ending their friendship, stared at Kame's number for half an hour, sent Josh another thirteen incoherent hate mails ending their friendship _forever_ , and plugged his earphones in to listen to red-haired, unkissed Kame singing Kizuna on repeat until his battery dies and he feels like downing another glass of that poison-green cocktail called _Lover's Death_.

Jin's made it the drink of the night. Maybe he'll write a song about it some day, and he'll send it to Nishioka's place, and Kame, with a wedding ring on his finger, and pregnant with their second child, will lift it out of the mailbox and remember this guy called Akanishi Jin he used to dance in a boyband with, but then Nishioka will kiss him and Kame will forget about the CD and Jin and everything else.

"Yeah, babes, bring it on," someone slurs, stumbling past.

Jin looks up.

A few meters down the street, two girls are loudly fumbling their way to second base, in what Josh would call "fucktastic" sight from Jin's perch on the back door steps of the club. Jin didn't even notice.

They're _loud_ , actually, moaning and gasping as they grope each other. There's tongues meshing and lips glistening in the lamplight. It's a messy kiss, and it's perfectly audible, even with the muffled dance beats that vibrate through the door Jin's slumped against. To pretend he isn't drunk six shots against the wind. 

From the way the girls keep sneaking glances, Jin is pretty sure the porn soundtrack is meant as an invitation.

The other kiss was nothing like this. 

The date must've reached coffee-invitation-level by now. Or gone beyond already, if Kame was greedy. Which he probably was. Not much chance to get laid while you're busy touring Japan.

And Jin shouldn't be thinking these thoughts, because he isn't stupid, and they aren't helping anyone. 

But down the street, there's two girls snogging like the survival of mankind depends on it, and Jin's so far from aroused he might as well dump a glass of ice cubes down his pants, because it wouldn't make a difference anyway.

 

\---

 

"Can somebody open the door already?" Jin's mum yells from the kitchen, where she's chopping her way through a mountain of vegetables. "Don't make me come out and do it myself!"

Narrowly avoiding Reio's Kamehameha-attack, Jin gestures his head at Pi. 

"Nope, guest here," Pi grins, taking another gulp of beer. "She'll just yell more if she sees you made me do it."

"Guest, too," Yuu whoops, and steals the controller away from Jin with his freaky big hands. For a second, Vegeta stumbles left and right on the screen. 

Reio viciously presses the buttons on his own controller, feigning a sudden case of deafness.

"Lazy. All of you," Jin scolds them, pushing himself up from the floor just as the doorbell chimes again. 

In the kitchen, a knife clatters onto the counter. "DIDN'T I SAY—" 

"YES, mom, I'm going," Jin yells back, and nearly knocks over the Christmas tree on his scramble for the door. "Geez, it'll just be some stupid– oh."

"Uhm, hi," Kame says, sheepish. "I guess this is a bad time…"

Jin blinks.

Hoisted up on Kame's hip, the bundle of winter clothes that must be his niece starts to squirm. "UNCLE JIN!" she squeals with glee, and Jin blinks again.

"It's an emergency," Kame says gravely. "We're ten minutes away from her house, but she needs to pee."

Tamako nods, her bangs bouncing wildly. "I reeeeally need to."

"Yeah. Uhm. Sure," Jin says, dumbfounded, and takes a step back to let them in. "Our toilet's always open."

Kame puts her down and pulls the door shut behind him. Within seconds, she's struggling out of her winter boots, batting Kame's hands away when he tries to help her pull them off her feet. 

"Sorry to disturb you, we'll be quick," Kame says. He tugs off Tamako's hat and scarf while she's busy wriggling out of her supersized duvet jacket. 

Then she jumps onto the step to the hallway. 

"First door on the right," Jin tells her, and off she is in a tiny flurry of striped leggings and a star-sprinkled dress.

"Was that a lace collar?" Jin asks, incredulous.

"Yep." Kame grins. "Latest phase. All the rage among four-year olds." He shifts his weight to fold up her jacket over his arm. "I was on the way to drop her off at Koji's, but she swore she couldn't make it all the way. Didn't help that I just told her where you used to live." 

"You think she's faking it?" Jin looks down at the tiny shoes next to the jumble of heavy boots belonging to him, Reio, Shirota and Pi. "But she's… she's just a baby!"

"Yeah, and you've been telling her all about these after-Christmas days at your parents', with a tinsel-tree and a turkey and a nativity set."

That… might be true. Still.

"But this year we're just having plain shabu-shabu," Jin protests, "and the tree is sort of spindly." He remembers telling Kame yesterday, before they had to go on stage for Music Station.

"Jin," Kame says. "A _nativity set_. She's never even seen one before. And your mother has a hundred dogs, and the only one she knows is Pin."

"Pin's my dog," Jin says, and Kame chuckles. He's still wearing full winter gear.

"Just… why don't you come in, too?" Jin buries his hands in his hoodie, trying his best not to blush. "If she's been planning to check out the nativity set anyway."

"If I may," Kame says slowly, but he's smiling, and Jin needs to distract his pulse with hanging up Tamako's things while Kame is hopping around in the entryway. 

 

\---

 

Tamako loves the nativity set. 

She sprints towards the tree before Jin has opened his mouth to explain, and the epic battle in front of the television grinds to a sudden stop.

"Holy shit," Yuu blurts out. "Does Santa deliver children now?"

"She's with me," Kame says, coming around the corner. 

Pi spits out a mouthful of beer. 

"Kame-chan," he coughs, fumbling for a tissue. "What a surprise to see you here." He glances at Jin briefly, raising his eyebrows. "Jin didn't tell us he'd be expecting any more visitors." 

Pi looks like he's slowly adding up numbers that don't exist, and Jin snatches his hand out of the hoodie pocket to make little no-no waving motions in front of his stomach, out of Kame's line of sight.

"My niece had a bathroom emergency," Kame explains. "We're just stopping by."

"No hot date for you?" Pi asks innocently, and Jin wants to groan. _Sneaky, Yamashita, really sneaky_.

Kame is unfazed. "Nope, no hot date." He crouches down next to Tamako to pick up a sheep and make it dance in circles. She giggles. 

Pi turns to look at Jin, wriggling his eyebrows like he's asking Jin to throw Kame over his shoulder and carry him off to the closest cave. 

Jin wishes he knew the sign language for _He's still getting it on with Nishioka, dolt_. 

"Huh," Yuu drawls. "So you finally joined the ranks of the dateless Christmas losers Jin's mom pity-cooks for."

Reio whacks him over the head. "Be nice to him. You've been coming here since 2005, no reason to be cocky." 

Reio used to believe Kame was the coolest kid ever. After all this time, you'd think he'd gotten over his hero-worship already. 

Yuu snorts. "Well, not my fault I grew up with Christmas as a family thing, and then my parents suddenly decide Hawaii is the best place to be this time of the year. Right, Pi?"

"Wouldn't know," Pi says, shrugging. "I don't even want to know what my mom got up to with the guy of the year yesterday, and she doesn't consider the twenty-sixth very Christmasy. Japanese down to the bone."

Kame hmms and bends down to inspect the hay in the crib, because Tamako thinks it might prick the plastic baby.

The truth is, Jin has invited him to join them every year since the parties at Ueda's stopped. His mother likes to have guests, and Kame in particular, and with Kame's parents not doing the whole Christmas family thing either, it always seemed strange that Kame kept turning down the invitations politely. 

Jin now gets that it's not very clever to spend Christmas with the guy you maybe once kissed when your life was going crazy, and that guy never said anything afterwards. Only logical to not be near him on romantic holidays, and eventually move on to other, better things. Baseball players with chiseled abs, for instance.

"So what's with the niece?" Yuu asks, picking up his controller again. "Are you baby-sitting?"

"Since yesterday night." Kame looks up from the herd of sheep Tamako is stacking up, and winks. "It's her parents' first Christmas date since she was born, that's bound to take a while. I think having her sleep over at my place might be the best present I gave them in years."

"And this is why I don't want kids right now," Pi declares, finishing his bottle of beer with two deep gulps. "Worse for your sex life than a penis full of genital warts."

"SHHH," Jin and Kame hiss simultaneously, and then everyone is looking at Tamako, who keeps letting the baby Jesus ride on the back of a sheep like she hasn't heard a thing. 

"Sorry," Pi whispers into the shared sigh of relief.

There's clattering in the kitchen, and Jin's mom saying, "And keep up the chopping, honey, I'll be right back." 

Then she bustles into the living-room, and her voice goes up the wazoo with joy when she spots Kame and his niece. By the dumbfounded look on Kame's face as he's swept into a hug, it's pretty clear he has forgotten how little she cares about proper Japanese greetings. She also hasn't seen him in forever, and there's no way of stopping her enthusiasm when she decides to rearrange the table settings to fit in two more chairs.

Five minutes later, Kame is on the phone with Koji, asking whether they can make do without Tamako for another hour or so longer.

"What?" he asks finally, his eyes nearly popping out after an unspectacular row of yeah's and okay's. "Er… sure. If you want to." 

Without another word, he hands the phone over to Jin. 

"Huh, _me_?" Jin asks, but then Koji's already saying, "Yo, Akanishi."

"Koji," he manages, "long time no speak."

"Make that Koji-san, at least," Kame's brother says. "I'm a father now, means I get to be respected."

"You wish," Jin snorts, falling back into old patterns with ease. "I think changing diapers messed up your head. I've still got a month on you."

"Insolence," Koji drawls. "Didn't my brother teach you any manners?"

Jin sneaks a glance at Kame, but he's too busy facepalming to notice. 

Right. Convincing Koji they get to keep Tamako for dinner.

"Erm, so," Jin says quickly, "why did you want to speak to me? Are you worried about Tama-chan?"

"What?" Koji laughs, deeper than Kame, but just as husky. "No, she thinks you hung the moon. You're right after Kazuya on her list of who she's going to marry when she gets older."

"I'll turn her down gently," Jin promises, grinning happily. "So what's the problem, then? If it's not Tama-chan?"

"It's Kazuya," Koji says. "I know he's old enough to look after himself, and he'll tell you he's big and grown up and blablabla." There's a pause, probably Koji rolling his eyes. "But the thing is. He hasn't really celebrated Christmas since the last time you all stayed over at your groupmate's. And whoever he's entertaining between the sheets right now, doesn't seem to have time for a date. So…"

"Are you pimping your brother out to me?" Jin asks, incredulous. 

Kame's head snaps up from where he'd been studying the patterns in the parquet floor, and his eyes narrow dangerously.

"What? Oh my god, _no_ " Koji laughs, and Jin has to hold the phone away from his ear to not go deaf. "All I'm saying is please keep him where he is, feed him with your mum's food, give him lots of wine and let him sleep it off somewhere cozy so he doesn't look like a zombie for once. I'll pick Tama-chan up later and—"

Kame snatches the phone away. He doesn't look like he's feeling the Christmas spirit.

"Go look after Tama-chan, please," he tells Jin, his mouth drawn into a tight line. "I need to have a talk with my brother." 

 

\---

 

"I think I'm tipsy," Kame murmurs hours later, his breath tickling along Jin's jaw as he lets his head sink against Jin's shoulder.

"I think you're _drunk_ ," Yuu slurs from in front of the couch. Jin would flash him the finger if he didn't have very important business right now.

His thumbs may be tired on the buttons of the controller, but this is the annual Dragonball Christmas Tournament, all official and stuff, with a giant chart of points and matches Pi tries to cheat-change when nobody's looking. They can't just stop without a proper winner just because it's one in the morning and they're all bordering on food-comatose. 

The wine Jin's parents brought out before going to bed also didn't help things much. Reio was going to mix it with cola, which Jin thought made much sense, but then Kame looked at Reio like he was the bad lion who'd killed off Simba's dad in the movie Tamako wanted to watch before Koji came to pick her up. 

No way for Reio not to get up and fetch the fancy wine glasses. Even without the hero worship.

Now Kame is a drowsy pile of muscles and limbs next to Jin on the sofa, and he seems to have decided it's a good idea to nod off on him. 

Best friends are allowed to do that, and… that's what they are.

Or at least, that's what Jin keeps reminding himself. He doesn't know what Koji told Kame to make him stay, but stay he did, and if he looked like he _belonged_ , eating Jin's parent's shabu-shabu, tumbling around on the floor with Pin and Tamako, wibbling over The Lion King, and beating the shit out of Pi's Son Goku before he got started on the wine… well, it's not like a best friend can't look like he belongs.

When Kame's head begins to slide down his shoulder, Jin slowly pulls a cushion into his lap, and lets Kame's weight do the rest of the slumping. On the TV screen, Pi and Reio are lazily flying circles around each other.

"Awww," Yuu drawls. "Now that's just cute."

Kame wrinkles his nose and huffs a breath that is half sigh, half snore. His hand lies limp on Jin's knee.

"Shh, let him sleep it off," Jin says, and, because he doesn't know where to put his arm, "Hey, is it my turn now?"

Kame sleeps all the way through the dramatic showdown, a breathing furnace on Jin's lap. And when it's time to go to bed, he trudges after him with sleepy eyes, docile and warm, waving a sloppy goodnight at Pi, who volunteered to take the couch because he has an early morning call. 

"Whoops," Reio says suddenly, stopping in the hallway. "We're one bed short."

"We're not," Jin says automatically. Then thinks. "Oh. We are."

Yuu groans. "And you remember this _now_?"

They're in the middle of puzzling out how to distribute two beds and the spare futon in Reio's room between four people, when Kame's alcohol-muddled brain pipes up.

"We're sharing," he announces happily, and starts to tug Jin towards Reio's room. "We ALWAYS did that, no probs!"

Yuu fails badly at hiding his amusement. "Why, thank you, Kame-chan," he chortles. "Now I get Jinny's bed, and he gets to cuddle." 

_Tonto del culo_ , Jin mouths at him before Kame pulls him through the door. _Butthead._

"Yay, futon," Kame declares sleepily, and seems to have every intention of dropping down onto the pile just like that.

Jin claps a hand on his shoulder. "Clothes, Kazu," he reminds him. And then, because he accidentally watched that interview, "Uhm. Not all the clothes, though. Right?"

Kame nods blearily, but then he gets so confused with the buttons of his shirt that Jin has to take over. 

"Oooha," Reio says on entering the room. "Shall I leave again?"

"Shut up and get into bed," Jin snaps, pulling the shirt off Kame's arms.

"'M sorry," Kame murmurs, and Jin groans. "Not you, cutie."

After making sure there's actually boxers underneath, Jin helps Kame wrestle down his jeans, and they nearly tumble to the futon because Kame's swaying so much.

Jin is glad he stayed off the wine after the first glass. 

"This is hilarious," Reio wheezes on the bed. "Where's my phone, I need to film this!"

"Can't film us like this," Kame slurs with wobbly indignation, trying to send an infamous Kamenashi glare into Reio's direction. It ends up looking like a pout, and Jin has to bite his lip not to burst out laughing.

It's a pretty big futon, so Jin foolishly believes that once the lights are out and they're settled, he can finally close his eyes and pretend this isn't happening.

And then Kame happily goes on to demonstrate that he isn't just a touchy-feely drunk, but a sixty-kilogram octopus looking for snuggles.

"'m cold," Kame murmurs, rolling towards Jin in a flail of limbs. His knee bumps into Jin's thigh when he burrows closer, but the angle is awkward, and Kame huffs in frustration. 

Squirms around.

Then his hand lands on Jin's stomach, and for a moment he stills. 

"Your belly is nice," he finally chirps, patting a bit. "Soft like a cushion."

Reio breaks into another giggling fit. "Yeah," he chokes out, "that would be Jin's awesome abs."

"Will you shut up already," Jin hisses, and he's glad the room is dark enough that the heat on his face can't be noticed. "And will you stop squirming?" Frustrated, he puts an arm around Kame, pulling him up, off his stomach, until his head rolls onto Jin's shoulder and a heavy arm slides across his chest.

Some more wriggling. A leg settling over Jin's thighs, and Kame's sluggish warmth where their bodies touch. 

The moving stops.

"Finished?" Jin asks, like this is totally bro, and his pulse isn't gone through the roof.

"Cozy," Kame slurs, a puff of breath over Jin's collarbone. "G'night, Jin."

And then it's just Kame starting to feel heavier as he falls asleep, his breathing going deep, steady. And after a while, it is echoed by Reio's snores on the bed.

Jin is counting sheep. 

Sometimes, a car drives by, and a beam of light flickers along the ceiling.

There's a strand of hair dancing along the tip of Kame's nose on every exhale. Whenever it whispers past his skin, he frowns, like it annoys him, and he burrows his face into the collar of Jin's shirt. But he doesn't wake up again.

Jin keeps glancing down at Kame, and it messes up his herd of jumping sheep every single time until he gives up, resigned.

And when the next car drives past outside, nothing more than a flicker of light on the ceiling, Jin raises his free hand, and he slowly pushes the strand of hair back behind Kame's ear, lingering. Yearning. A soft touch on smooth, pierced skin.

He doesn't sleep that night.

 

\---

 

"BALL!" Kawakami shouts. "Damn it, Kazuya, what was that?"

Tamako, sitting on the bench by the sideline, breaks into a giggling fit, clapping her left hand into the children's glove on her right with glee.

Kame shrugs and adjusts his Tokyo Giants cap. Jin can't remember when he last pitched a ball that careened this far off course.

"What's up?" he yells, lowering the bat. "Are you tired already?"

"Just lost my balance," Kame shouts back, and bends down to pick up another ball. Jin hastily raises the bat again, settling his weight carefully like Kawakami taught him to.

The ball whizzes past so fast Jin doesn't stand a chance. And the next one, and the one after that, too. They slam into Kawakami's glove so hard Jin hears the old man grunt.

And Jin knows something's up, because the only times Kame ever pitches like this is when he's furious. Which he can't be because he was dementedly stomping his feet with laughter five minutes ago.

Curveball. 

Jin manages to bat, but it's a foul. His hands burn from the impact.

A few nasty pitches later, he's just about to tell Kame to tone it down, because this is insane, and if his palms hurt like this, Kawakami must be even worse off.

"Nice pitching," someone shouts, clapping applause. 

Jin whirls around. There's an old guy with a round, friendly face leaning against the door to the pitch. It's the only part of the fence Kawakami didn't have covered with blinds after they first started training here. But so far, they've never needed them, because they're in the middle of Agricultural Old People District, and nobody searches for idols here.

The only one who would have seen the guy is Kame, from his spot on the pitcher's mound. Explains the sudden change in pitching.

"Ah, Egawa-kun, I didn't notice you there," Kawakami calls, and waves him closer. Then he elbows Jin, whispering, "Bow and behave."

But Egawa isn't really interested in Jin's quick self-introduction. He has his eyes locked on Kame, who is jogging towards them with a smile on his face. There's a long-time-no-see, and more bowing, and Kawakami suggesting the three of them head into the house.

"Look after the kid, kid," he chuckles at Jin, and pats his shoulder before they leave. 

Tamako hops off the bench. 

"Who was that old man with Kawakami-jiichan?" she asks as they both watch Kame brush dirt of his jersey before he disappears into the house.

"I don't know," Jin says, bending down to re-adjust the pink knit cap so it covers her ears again. "But your uncle seemed excited, so it's probably another baseball guy. Maybe some coach, or a veteran player." 

Kame wouldn't give Jin blisters to show off in front of a plain old dude.

"Hmm." Tamako purses her lips, but then her face brightens. "Is Uncle Kazu joining the Giants?"

"No," Jin laughs, and picks up the glove from the player's bench where Kame dropped it. "I'm sure he'd like to, but he already has a job. And he's really good at it, too. When he moves his hips, all the girls scream, like kyaaaa~." 

"But I love the Giants," Tamako pouts, tugging at the jersey Kame helped her put on over her winter coat. She reminds Jin of a cute, super-sized marshmallow. "I wanna be a Giants player when I get older. Uncle Kazu says they're the best team in the world, ever!"

Jin doesn't even know if they have a women's team, but there's no way to tell that to a four-year old child with stars in her eyes, just like her uncle used to look when he was still aiming for Koshien.

"I bet you'll be awesome, Tama-chan," Jin says, crouching down to check whether her children's glove still fits her hand properly. 

"Uncle Kazu says I'm his baseball princess," Tamako giggles, wriggling her fingers in the thick leather glove, and Jin can't help but grin. 

"Then how about we play some special catchball game until he comes back?" he asks, and grabs a baseball from the basket next to the pitcher's mound. "No throwing further than a step away, so we both have a chance to catch. And whoever throws too far off or doesn't catch, loses a point." He clucks his tongue. "I've never been defeated by a baseball princess yet."

Tamako's eyes go narrow with determination, and the resemblance to Kame would be creepy if Jin didn't have to focus on not melting from the cute.

"I won against Uncle Kazu in hula hoop last year," she declares, and stomps a few meters away. "This will be a piece of cake."

"Don't get cocky, young lady," Jin admonishes, but he can't keep the grin off his face. Being inconsistent, Kame would say. "And don't think I'll go easy on you just because you're a dwarf." 

He totally will. She's adorable when she wins. 

And then he gets so caught up in throwing her balls that loop high and fall down softly into her glove that he doesn't realize Kame, Kawakami and the Egawa-guy have left the house until a car door bangs shut. He looks up to see Kame bowing again as the car pulls out of the driveway. Kawakami claps him on the back, a proud smile on his face, and then Kame puts his baseball cap back on and turns towards them.

"You missed, you missed!" Tamako cheers, but then she spots Kame, too. 

"UNCLE KAZU," she shrieks happily, and dashes across the pitch like a bouncing cotton ball. Maybe they went a bit overboard with bundling her up against the February chill.

Kame sweeps her up, laughing all over his face. Jin, who follows at a more casual pace, picking up baseballs as he goes, can see she's talking fast, pointing at Jin and waving her arms, knocking off Kame's cap in what is clearly the story of her heroic catchball victory over Jin. 

Kame goes through his repertoire of ridiculous "eeeeeh~"-faces, then leans forward to whisper something into her ear. She nods with fervor, and when he puts her onto the ground again, she skips to Kawakami and grabs his hand, dragging him towards the house, chattering incessantly.

Then Kame turns, and when their eyes meet, he breaks into a giant, megawatt grin that has Jin stop dead in his tracks, and then he's running towards Jin like his niece was running a minute ago, only he's so much faster, and then he tumbles against Jin with all his weight, spinning him into a crazy stumble, whooping "I GOT THE JOB! I GOT THE JOB!" at the top of his lungs. 

And Jin realizes who the other guy was, because Kame has been excited and fidgety ever since he got the phone call that said the TV station was interested. 

"You're doing _Going_!?" he yells, and Kame's laughing, and Jin pulls him in tight, feeling his heart thump with exhilaration, and Kame hugs him back so hard Jin thinks he hears his ribs creak.

It's a miracle they manage not to fall face first into the mud.

"I'm doing _Going_ ," Kame repeats, hoarse and out of breath, and lowers his forehead onto Jin's shoulder. "They sent Egawa-san to tell me in person. Excuse me while I faint."

"You can't faint now," Jin says, squeezing once before he pulls back a bit. "We need to get you back into shape from all the drama filming. I think Tama-chan throws a faster ball than you."

"Pfft. You are the rusty one, Mister Solo Concert," Kame grins, with his cheeks flushed pink, his hair tousled from cheering, and his eyes shining with joy. 

He's beautiful. And right then, right there, for just a few seconds, Jin loves baseball.

 

\---

 

There's no desk to tidy up, no paper carton to pack, no locker to clear. 

Nine years, and Jin didn't leave a visible trace in this building except for the rack of clothes in the costume rooms, bound to be cut up again to create new outfits once the next budgeting crisis occurs. 

"There's a spot on a carpet where you once dropped whipped cream," Taguchi chirps, forever helpful.

"Do you have Alzheimer's now?" Koki asks, and throws a ball of crumpled up costume drawings at Taguchi's head. "That was during Dream Boys, not here at the agency. Airhead."

"It wasn't me, anyway," Jin tries half-heartedly. 

"Hah," Ueda snorts, packing away his reading glasses. "Not even Yuichi believed you, and his soft spot for you is the size of Lake Takao."

"Stop twisting my words," Nakamaru protests. He's knotting an argyle scarf around his neck. "You all insisted Jin was lying, and I said he probably just hadn't noticed dropping the cream."

"Exactly," Ueda says. "Soft spot if I ever saw one." 

"See," Taguchi tells Jin, and pats his shoulder. "At least now you never have to listen to that story again."

"Taguchi, you will never learn to read an atmosphere, will you." Jin lets himself slump over the table, his cheek rasping along the sleeves of his hoodie.

Taguchi's hand squeezes down on his shoulder, brief and warm. "I'll keep trying for you," he says lightly. "And you can always whack me later when you see me fail somewhere."

Jin hums, and swats his hand away. "Yeah, whatever," he says, but his mouth is twitching, tugging into a slow smile as Taguchi heads for the door. "Bye, Taguchi."

"See you when you're famous," Taguchi winks, and then he's out of the door, but before it can fall shut, he pokes his spiky blond head in again. "And don't let them tell you fedoras give you a manly, mysterious aura." He raises his eyebrows dramatically. "Mysterious hats don't make mysterious heads."

It feels like home to tell him to shut the fuck up. 

"Such a dork," Koki chuckles, but he immediately switches to a groan when the door opens again. "Seriously, Taguchi, you—"

"Sorry to disturb you," Massu says quickly. "Just grabbing Nakamaru for dinner at a new gyouza place. I thought your meeting was supposed to be over already."

"It is," Nakamaru assures him, and presses down softly over Jin's hand as he gets up. "Cheer up, Jin," he says. "L.A. is waiting."

"Oh hi, Akanishi," Massu says from the door. He looks confused. "Weren't you guys planning the tour today? As like… five?"

"We were," Ueda drawls, pushing back his chair. "Our princess here is just looking for closure. Run away before she infects you with her angst."

Jin wordlessly raises his middle finger. 

"Fuck you, too," Ueda says, but on the way out he rasps his knuckles through Jin's mane of hair almost affectionately. "Don't be a stranger."

And then they're gone, and the only ones left are Jin and Koki. 

Kame had to rush off half an hour ago, but they'll meet at the pitch later today. Training for _Going_ so those stuck-up baseball players will never know what hit them when filming starts this week. Kame thinks they'll be all nice and open and not-mocking, but Kame would also believe in unicorns and fairies if a baseball pope swore they existed.

"Awww, man," Koki says, nudging Jin's boots under the table. "Don't be so gloomy, I feel like we threw you out of the group or something."

"You didn't," Jin pouts. "The boss did."

Koki rolls his eyes. "He told you to _choose_."

"And you all said I was making the right choice." 

"That's not throwing you out, that's… Geez, Jin, listen to yourself." Koki sits up straight, voice serious. "Okay, it sucks that they're going to keep a lid on it at first, and it sucks that you'll have to dictate a lie into a bunch of microphones. I get that." 

He leans forward, holds Jin's reluctant gaze with his own. "But what I don't get is that you don't… seem happy. This is what you wanted. This is what you're good at. We all _told_ you we want you to take the chance, and nobody's pissed off."

Jin shoots him a look. 

Koki clears his throat. "Well, maybe pissed off at the situation. But never at you, okay? So switch off the emo already."

"It's not that I'm not… happy," Jin starts, fiddling with the hems of his sleeves. "I _am_ happy. Really. But right now…" He trails off.

"What?" Koki asks. "Come on, Jin, out with it."

Jin swallows. "It's just. I'm kind of in between, you know. I'm out of the group, and the L.A. thing hasn't picked up yet. And... it just doesn't seem like I'm going to be missed much."

"Dude, of course we'll miss you," Koki says, incredulous.

"That's not what I meant." Jin folds his hands. Keeps his fingers off his sleeves. "I meant that you all went on without me like it's effortless. Like… having me there didn't make much of a difference in the end."

"Jin," Koki sighs, rubbing his face tiredly with his hand full of bling. "Don't tell me you really believe that. Not after all this time in the business."

"All right, I don't," Jin admits. "But it seems effortless, like, Ueda suddenly hits the high notes like they're nothing, and Taguchi does a mean Keep the Faith intro, and Kame has Nishioka and—"

"Nishioka?" Koki narrows his eyes. "What does he have to with anything?"

 _Everything._

But Jin knows that's not true. Still. It's something. 

Jin shrugs. "Nothing." 

Koki looks at him like Jin just implied he was dumber than a stone. 

"Really, nothing." Jin repeats. "Kame can date whoever he wants to, not my place to judge." He did judge, though. Trouble is, Nishioka actually passed.

"Date?" Koki's voice is careful. "Who said anything about dating?"

Jin waves his hands. "They did, okay. I heard them say it. Sometime last year." 

The exact date is kind of burned into his brain, but Koki doesn't need to know that.

"Last _I_ heard," Koki starts slowly, like Jin is Bambi and might skittle away at a badly phrased word. "Last I heard they were just… friends with benefits. I don't know if there were, like, dating dates in the beginning, but. Not now."

Jin blinks. 

"Jin. Don't tell me you never asked him about it." 

"Uhm," Jin says, because his mind's a mess right now. A big fat choir of whatthefuck, mostly. 

Koki groans and decides this calls for a drink.

 

\---

 

The day Kame throws his first _Going_ pitch against a professional baseball player, Jin can't be there with him, because the pitch happens in Sendai while Jin is caught up in solo con meetings in Tokyo. 

One week later, he sits cross-legged on his bed and watches the taped video air, with live, real-time Kame grinning from a tiny window in the corner of Jin's flatscreen.

Last Sunday, two guys who looked like giants next to Kame showed him a special pitching technique without ever expecting him to pull it off. But Kame did, and it felt strange to see an awkward sense of respect creep into their faces.

Now the female half of the spectators goes mad as Kame's name flares on the stadium's screen, exactly where the names of the players are usually announced. And then there's Kame, jogging onto the field with his chopped off hair and a nervous smile, and it's weird to watch him stand on the pitcher's mound in a simple _Going_ shirt instead of the old Giants jersey Jin has grown used to.

Jin knows how it went already, but it still hurts to see the ball spin off course.

Maybe it would've been different if Jin had been there, watching. He's been watching nearly all of Kame's pitches since they took up training, knows where they curve and spin and shoot, and the best way to bat each of them. Kame can depend on Jin watching, and Jin knowing how to deal.

Jin wasn't there.

And on the screen, Kame is blushing with embarrassment, bowing to the crowd and sticking close to the guy he lost against. He keeps patting Kame's back, and his name is Yamasaki. Jin knows because they said it, showed it in the subtitles. He could tell Kame next week, and Kame would be happy he finally remembered a baseball name.

But next week will be busy, and Kame has more baseball shooting scheduled now that the first ratings came in. There'll be more special pitches, more one-on-one matches, more players realizing that Kame lives baseball, that he's serious. There's even talk of getting Kame a day on training camp, if things continue to go well.

As if prompted, Yamasaki promises Kame a revenge match, and Jin can _see_ it's taking all Kame's got not to hop around like a little girl. He knows every look on that face when it comes to baseball.

Jin is leaving, for months. And Kame will be training with people who are paid a fortune to throw the perfect pitch, to slam the ball high up into the sky. Some of them might have scored a homerun in the high school finals at Koshien.

And even if Jin might secretly be the second-best baseball idol in Japan, as Kawakami likes to ponder sometimes, there's no way he can ever compete with them, and with what they can give Kame to make his baseball dream come a little truer.

Nishioka is really only the tip of the iceberg.

Jin grips the blanket tightly, and his eyes burn from staring at the screen without blinking.

Kame looks happy.

And Jin is leaving. 

He stumbles for his phone, and his fingers type so fast his hands are shaking.

Then the message is sent, and Jin watches Kame on the TV screen for a few long seconds, wondering why nothing happens, before he remembers that phones are switched off on television sets. It's something he's known since he was fourteen. 

Jin doesn't wait for the show to finish. He grabs his keys and leaves. 

 

\---

 

_Kazuya._

_I need you to meet me at the pitch.  
It's important. I'll be waiting._

_Jin_

 

\---

 

The sound of gravel crunching underneath wheels has Jin jump up from the bench he's been waiting on, shivering in the night air because he forgot to bring a jacket. The only lamp he switched on is the small one above the entrance, because Kawakami is old and needs his sleep.

A car door closes, and someone's hurrying down the path, and then there's Kame, in an immaculate suit and a coat, stumbling into the dim lamplight.

"Jin?" he calls. "You better be there, or I'll strangle you tomorrow."

"Here," Jin says, moving out of the shadows by the bench. "I'm here."

Kame steps onto the pitch, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Do you know what time it is?"

Jin doesn't. He's been waiting here since he unlocked the pitch with his spare key.

Kame's eyebrow furrow into his infamous duck-because-I'm-about-to-go-on-a-rampage line, but it smoothens out as soon as his eyes drop down to Jin's bare arms. 

"How long have you been here?" he asks quickly, slipping out of his coat as he hurries over to Jin. "Damn it, Jin, you're doing solo concerts in LA. This isn't the time to be catching a cold."

"I won't catch a cold," Jin says, stepping away from Kame before he can wrap the coat around Jin's shoulders. "I'll warm up when we start with the pitching."

"What?" Kame stops dead in his tracks. " _Pitching_?"

Jin has already brought the baseball baskets out of the little equipment shed in the corner, where Pin's and Ran-chan's old playpen is turning orange-brown with rust.

"Just a few pitches," Jin hurries to assure, and bends down to pick up a ball. "A goodbye pitch before I leave. Won't take long." 

He turns to head for the batter's box, but Kame's hand snaps forward, gripping his wrist like a vise. 

"Jin," he says. "What are you even talking about?"

Jin tries to tug free, but Kame's hands are strong from baseball, always have been, or they wouldn't even be standing here right now, because Kame's baseball hands were the only thing keeping Jin back when he wanted to run out of Miss Canniolli's dance studio all those years ago. 

"I want us to pitch one last time," Jin tells the dirt on the floor. "It's all going to be over, anyway."

"O-kay," Kame says, stepping around Jin so he's blocking the way to the rest of the field. "I think we should sit down for a second."

Kame's hand is a warm weight against his lower back, steering him back towards the bench. And then there's a coat around his shoulders, and the bench below him, and Kame looking at him with calm eyes.

"Now tell me again why you made me come here, and why you want us to practice pitching at two in the morning."

"I was watching _Going_ , okay," Jin says, pulling the coat more tightly around himself. "And I figured you wouldn't need me here anymore, now that you got the guys from the sticker albums to show you how baseball really works."

"So you wanted to what? Pitch one more time before I get bedazzled by the sticker stardom and decide you're unworthy?"

"It made sense at the time?" Jin tries weakly, hunching a bit more under the coat which he would really like to bury his head into, because it smells like Kame. 

"I'd never not want to play with you," Kame says, voice soft. "I like it. You're the only guy who ever learned baseball so I'd stop bawling my eyes out."

"You weren't bawling," Jin protests, remembering Chibi-Kame staring at his calluses during dance practice break, gloomy and quiet. "Moping, maybe."

"Bawling on the inside," Kame snorts. "I was fifteen, things were dramatic in my head."

"Well, now you're twenty-four, and all the cool baseball dudes think you're not too bad for a sparkly idol."

"And why is that, hm?" Kame asks, nudging Jin with his knee. "Who got me there?"

"Erm," Jin says, ducking his head.

"The coolest baseball dude I know," Kame says slowly, "is sitting right in front of me. Understood?"

Jin squirms a bit, his face warm all of a sudden. 

He nods.

Kame studies him. "All right," he says, getting up and shrugging out of his suit jacket. "Let's do your pitching, and then get out of here."

"Huh? But—"

"It was important to you, right?" Kame says, and picks up a baseball, kneading it between his hands like Egawa told him an hour ago on national television. "I'm here now, anyway, so we might as well." 

He walks briskly towards the pitcher's mound, turning around halfway to call, "And this _doesn't_ mean I'm dumping you for the pros."

And then Jin stands by the homeplate, and the weight of the bat is familiar in his hands.

Eighteen meters and forty-four centimeters away, Kame kicks the ground with Italian leather shoes, the dirt spraying over the hems of his Armani pants. The white shirt spans tight over his back, clinging to his hips just _so_ , and he looks nothing like he did at nineteen, when his hair blazed red and his shoulders were scrawny.

When once, there was a kiss.

Curveball.

Jin slams his weight into the swing, the impact stinging his palms. Then he watches the ball sail high, in a perfect arc, and even though Jin doesn't know much about baseball, he knows that anywhere else, it would be heading for homerun. 

It hits the net that spans across the field and drops to the floor. Homeruns are impossible on Kawakami's pitch.

But Kame, his eyes wide like saucers, stares at the ball, and back at Jin, and then he's whooping and grinning and shouting, "A HOMERUN, Jin, a FUCKING HOMERUN," and then he's hugging Jin just as hard as the day they gave him _Going_ , cheering enough for them both.

He looks _everything_ like he did at nineteen, because he's still Kazuya, and he's Jin's world of baseball. 

"I love you," Jin blurts out.

Kame goes silent and stiff in his arms. Like a bat stopped mid-swing.

"What?" he says, and then he's pulling back, and they're staring at each other, still half-caught in the embrace.

"I love you," Jin repeats, scratchy-voiced. "And I don't want to leave like this."

Kame breathes. Swallows. Doesn't say anything.

It's quiet on the pitch, but Jin's pulse is thrumming, like the mad dash of a batter rushing to touch base.

"Don't sleep with Nishioka anymore," Jin whispers, and Kame's breath hitches.

 _Sleep with me_ , is what hangs in the air between them.

"Jin…" Kame starts, trailing off again.

"Yeah?"

Kame takes a deep breath, and lets his forehead sink onto Jin's shoulders.

"Just gimme a sec," he mumbles into Jin's chest.

"I'm sorry," Jin says quickly, and then his stomach starts churning with nervousness, because what if Kame's long since forgotten about that kiss on Ueda's balcony, and now Jin's fucked it all up and Kame's going to be so pissed he will end their friendship, stomping on his old pinky ring, and then he won't even let Jin throw him pitches when he returns, because his army of devoted baseball players will be lining up all the way to Kawakami's door and—

"Will you stop freaking out?" Kame says, flexing his hands slowly on Jin's waist. "I just need a moment to collect myself if I'm supposed to sweep you off your feet."

Freaking. Collecting. Sweeping... off feet?

"Oh," Jin breathes, as Kame's words settle in. 

"Idiot," Kame murmurs fondly.

Jin realizes this might be a good moment to slide his arms properly around Kame's back again. 

"So this is okay?" he asks quietly, and the muscles ripple beneath his touch, radiating warmth through the cotton of Kame's designer shirt.

"Yeah." Kame raises his head, catches Jin's gaze with his. "Very okay." 

Jin swallows. Kame's right hand trails along his arm, leaving goosebumps on the bare skin in its wake.

"You're the slowest guy in Japan," Kame tells him, his hand settling softly along the curve of Jin's jaw, the calluses rough on Jin's skin. "But I still want to kiss you senseless."

And then he leans in, and his hand nudges, and Jin, forgetting to breathe, obliges. 

There's stubble, and that's new and kind of unexpected, but then Kame opens his mouth under Jin's, and there's no thought left for comparing. 

Jin gasps, heat building low in his belly with every drag and pull of Kame's tongue; and he pushes forward, kisses back with toes curling and hands sliding strong into his hair, and Kame making a tiny hot noise at the back of his throat when Jin pulls them flush together, never breaking the slide of their lips.

They're both out of breath when Kame draws back a bit.

"Not here," he murmurs, hoarse and deep, a huff of air over Jin's slick lips, but then he dips back in again, and Jin forgets for a while.

Kame's hands slip into the back pockets of Jin's jeans, and this time it's Jin who pulls back. 

"Not that I'm complaining here," he gasps, nipping at Kame's lips at the first, dizzy squeeze. "But this… is really not the place."

"Whoops." Kame stills, a sheepish grin on his face. He still keeps his hands where they are. 

Jin tries to think. Serious thoughts. 

"My place," he says. "Could be a place. With. You know. Bed."

Kame purses his lips and looks like he's working hard at thinking serious thoughts, too. 

"Hmm," he contributes. "Hmm." 

Apparently, Jin's mouth is as distracting as the latest Louis Vuitton manbag.

"Pervert," Jin says happily, and shuffles a tiny step back. "So," he starts again, brushing some of the wrinkles out of Kame's shirt. "Was that a yes? Or do I need to buy you dinner first?"

Kame doesn't want dinner. 

_Take that, Nishioka_ , Jin thinks while they're locking the door of the pitch, Kame disheveled but back in his jacket, and Jin bundled up in Kame's coat, with the collar turned up, so that every step carries the scent of Kame's cologne.

He takes Kame's hand as they walk to the car, and he doesn't look back.

Because the old man's baseball field may not be Koshien, but it will always be there, waiting for them.

And Jin knows he will return, and throw Kame a thousand pitches, until the ball loops high, sailing for homerun, and Jin will tumble into Kame's arms on the diamond, and they will cheer together, over and over and over again.


End file.
